


spring tides

by orphan_account



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, daves just tryna be friends with a fish, eventually, mermaid au, she brings klaus sandwiches, sorta - Freeform, thalassophobia, vanya is a human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: His skull is chipped coral and his eyes sting with a heat stronger than the brine pools that father warned him about.
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	spring tides

**Author's Note:**

> ive just been feeling mermaids lately

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya brings Klaus a sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik there’s already been so many mermaid AUs but this is just out of my own self indulgence. 
> 
> also, there may or may not be some formatting issues with this. just tell me and I’ll try to fix any
> 
> not betaed but i dont think there are any major errors. lmk if there’s anything out of place

The water is warm; it’s awful and it’s summer. 

There’s a thick stench wafting from the rotten, harbor water, spurred on by the ripe heat beating down from the sun. It’s almost miserable, but he likes to keep himself pointlessly optimistic. He’s endured much worse. 

Klaus has crawled into drained, tawny pools, has crooned his way into moldy bathtubs and any relatively sodden surface he could find. It was shit on his gills, but it was the price of survival. He’s long forgotten the feeling of clean, oxygenated water in his bloodstream, and he had a good feeling he wouldn’t know any time soon. The harbor would do. _The ocean wouldn’t._

Klaus spends his morning making rounds around the shithole, lazy and slow because Klaus truly has nowhere to be. Someone had thrown out their overpriced breakfast, which had conveniently included some puny, cooked shrimp, and it sunk right into Klaus’ grubby little fingers to eat. It’s good, because he’s a shit hunter, really. 

Too easily startled and twitchy, yet reckless and inept, the swift wariness of a fish far too outmatched for him. Reginald had _tried_ to teach him to hunt with the strength of Luther, the precision of Diego, but his eye was more easily persuaded; caught on too naturally to the pretty corals and the plumage of some stupid fish. Quickly labeled a lost cause, he’d say, and switched to be taught on the wonderful skill of being the ‘lookout.’

But for as much time he spent in his childhood hiding behind docks, he sure was shit from going unnoticed. He couldn’t _really_ hide, not for his goddamn life, and any sort of pride he had was snubbed out of him once he accidentally beached himself on the sand of a very open, very public bay.

Some fishermen had most definitely seen him from where they were perched on their respective docks, but apparently he’s been an awful hider for a longer time than he’d expected because they barely spared him a second glance. Which, in hindsight, was somewhat of a relief, but something in his mind registered as pitiful, because that shit was just _embarrassing_ . They hadn’t even been _surprised_.

He idly wondered what they say about him. With the smudged charcoal that rims his eyes, the necklaces and earrings and other sunken jewelry hung ornately on his body. He’d been told by Ben that sometimes he resembled a mermaid more than a merman, or whatever that meant. Klaus had taken it as a compliment.

After eating his breakfast and relishing in old memories, he finishes his morning by lodging himself into some corner of the marina, where the sandy, shallow water and the docks met, hidden by a thick wall of concrete that lines the sidewalks. It’s not much of a home, but it’s somewhere he finds himself often. There are certainly worse places to be, Klaus thinks. Anywhere near his father, or his family, or in that massive, abyssal death void lovingly nicknamed _the ocean._

Klaus shudders _._

He hangs around the docks for a while, his tail curled lazily around one of the pillars, body sprawled out over the wet, muddy sand. He leans back on his elbows and flaps his tail a little, smacking against the rotting wood of the dock. 

This is what he does for an hour.

Soon enough, the sun is a bit higher in the sky, at some indecipherable angle that Klaus just _knows_ , and so he uncurls himself from his little makeshift nest and dips under the water. He’d been enjoying the sun against his skin, but towards the end it was beginning to evolve into a relentless, summer beatdown of heat. So the water feels nice. His gills struggle a bit in the stagnant filth, but it’s a dignified improvement from the direct sunlight. 

With one more glance upward, he finds himself swimming out to the furthest dock from the main marina and the town that accompanied it. The lone pier stretches into a blanket of blue, accented by the gleam and bounce of sunlight. 

Klaus can barely look out at it. He stays close to the harbor, clinging to its pillars. 

Upon his arrival, there’s not a soul in sight, no overzealous tourists walking along the wharf like it is on certain days. It’s quiet; empty. He closes his eyes and pulls himself up onto the wooden platform with a grunt, rolling onto his stomach with some struggle. It’s pretty safe here, hardly concealed, but he could be easily passed off as some sort of seal from a distance.

He moves his arms underneath himself, lifting his chin to rest on top of them. Exhausted eyes flutter closed, letting the sun bask onto his bare skin and smelling the salty air of the ocean. He doesn’t find himself so close to the actual sea very often. Seagulls coo and scream above him. 

“Hey, Klaus.” 

The voice is small and quiet and familiar, and he eases at the sound of it.

He doesn’t open his eyes. “Oh, Vanya, my lovely, darling sister! What brings you here this fine afternoon?” He says, high and breathily, which spurs an awkward laugh from her. 

“We meet here, like, every day.” Vanya laughs softly, and Klaus opens his eyes to see it. She’s already quieted, but there’s a hint of a quirked smile across her lips, and she looks out of place as always.

There’s a witty response starting to form somewhere in his head, but it quickly dissipates as he catches the smell of something. Sweet and subtle, maybe even buttery. It’s old and familiar, because he remembers the smell vividly from his childhood.

Suddenly he’s pushing himself up and clawing and scrambling forward, his tail lugging slowly behind him against the wood. “Did you bring that for _me_ ?” Klaus asks, and maybe it comes out a little desperate, but maybe he _is_.

Vanya _really_ laughs, louder and realer this time. “You mermaids really can smell, huh? Well, yes, you got me.” She smiles, relenting. The first sentence had almost come out bitter, but Klaus had learned long ago not to take these things personally.

She pulls out the sandwich she’d been hiding behind her back, and Klaus scoots himself closer to reach up and grab it. She’s far too high up when she’s standing, though, so he can’t even get close.

Mercifully, Vanya crouches down in front of him, bringing them near eye contact, and throws him the little baggie. The sandwich itself doesn’t last long, and it’s marshmallows and peanut butter just like she used to make it. It reminds him of Five. The name alone is painful to think of.

“Are you hungry?” Klaus is finishing his final bite of the sandwich when she asks. He looks up to meet her eyes, and he finds her usual look of gentle concern. Eyebrows furrowed and eyes soft.

The question is simple. His family, though, there’s always some sort of obscure, mildly condescending deeper meaning. This one is asking him whether he’s still living it up in abandoned pools and squatting in the ugly, trashy little bays tucked away from the sea itself. As homeless as a mermaid who won’t live in the ocean could be.

She’s staring at him expectantly, and he remembers she asked a question.

“Oh, very. But only for your _wonderful_ sandwiches.” Klaus croons, a weak attempt at deflection. It falls flat, because that stuff won’t get past Vanya.

“You should really visit the family.” She says, and it comes out timid and solemn. Her fingers twiddle against her palms, and Klaus beckons her to sit down beside him. She sits herself cross legged across him.

He decides to throw his signature, sloppiest smile at her. “I do.” 

“Really? Who?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow. The suspicion is heavy in her voice, and it doesn’t get past him.

“Oh, sorry. I meant that I am, right now.” He teases. It takes her a moment before she gives him an unimpressed look. He snickers. By the time he sees her arms coming towards him, it’s too late.

She pushes him and he rolls into the water.

His entire body ducks underneath the surface, and for a moment he can only register the cold, salty, freshness of ocean water. He’s okay, he’s fine. As long as he’s near the docks. 

A gentle wave flips him over, tossing him in the opposite direction.

He’s face to face with the open ocean. 

Darkness swallows the space beneath him, a sudden abyssal void that swallows little fish like him. So many corpses rotting and floating across the ocean floors, bodies rising to the surface. It’s daunting and retched. Klaus can’t- he just can’t—

His hands claw up at the water, struggling to find some sort of grip, tail thrashing to propel him upwards. He can feel the darkness pulling at him, down _down_ _down._ His hands clasp above the air and there are two hands waiting for him there, helping take off some of the weight of his tail. Using the new relief, he’s able to find a grip on the dock’s edge. He pulls himself up onto the platform, shaking, but not from the cold.

Vanya’s talking, rushed and worried. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t even thinking, Klaus. Are you okay?”

He moans an affirmative. Vanya always was the most understanding. They sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Still won’t go in the ocean, huh?” She says. The words come out quiet and unsure, like she’s testing the waters with him. The waters. Ha.

He groans out a muddled no. No point in being ashamed about it.

“Klaus, you” She starts, and he knows where it’s going already but he lets her continue anyways, “can always come to me, okay? If you’re already living in, I don’t even know, the old fishermen’s bathtubs? Mindswell just take my guest one, or something-“ 

“I’ve gotta stretch my tail, Vanny dear.” He sings. She gives him a look, but even she _knows_ that a sea creature can’t just go about their life happily in a _bathtub_. She just wants him to be safe, he knows, but that’s no way to live.

It’d already took some convincing to get him to come out here to meet like this every week. She’d found him by coincidence one week, sickly and weak, tangled in some knitted ropes and nets in some corner of some runoff drain. It had been the first they’d seen each other since Klaus went his separate ways. Vanya was disgusted and worried and heartbroken, so she dragged him into her car out back with some soaked cloth laid out over his gills, and let him camp out in her bathroom for a week or so. It was nice while it lasted.

Since then, she visits him and brings him little snacks and food, because lord knows he couldn’t catch his own food. He’s a little bit of a mess, sure, but anything’s better than the alternatives. 

They sit there for a little longer. Vanya talks about her violin, Klaus talks about the stupid little anemone that he found and claims to be friends with. He wonders if she knows he’s lonely.

She leaves with a smile and a promise that she’d be back in a few days, and Klaus leaves with a promise that he’d be there.

Some things in his life are nice. Not a lot, but just some things. And he’ll take that.




Curiosity killed the stupid fish. 

Reginald had recited that quote far too many times for it to not be true.

There’s a crash of metal, then water, from somewhere on the docks, and Klaus’ head peeks up from where he’s hidden beneath the wooden pillars to meet the source of the sound. Other trawlers and fishermen have fittingly stopped in their tracks to crane their necks to scope out the accident. Wary that it’s their own stock, Klaus supposes. A few voices begin to raise at the commotion, but whatever the crash was, it was valuable. 

Klaus is a curious being, by nature, so he ducks his head under the water and flicks his tail forward. He’s back in the shallow, shitty water of the harbor, so he’s safe.

Since his childhood, the water in the marina has always been murky and polluted, and if Klaus wasn’t so accustomed to shitty water conditions, he might’ve choked on the pure filth of it. There’s sludge and oil pooling above him that creates a thin, rainbow film over the surface, and it burns at his eyes and clogs at his gills. 

He distantly thinks that he could use a lengthy, warm bath after this, but he knows it’s risky to serenade his way into one safely. He could settle for the next best thing, which is probably just camping out on some secluded bay.

He weaves his way through the wharf easily. It’s only a matter of time until he finds whatever fell, but unfortunately, Klaus is nothing if not impatient. 

The few minutes of being submerged in the tainted water has made him only slightly dizzy, paired with the sudden wave of fatigue and nauseousness that washes over him. He can’t really say it _isn’t_ normal (not in this rotten water), so he continues circling low against the sand, stomach brushing against the pebbles and trash that had sunk to the bottom years before. Exhaustion has far but sunken into his bones. 

Klaus lifts his eyes upward, beams of light barely breaking through the thick layer of darkness that has begun to blanket the water’s surface. He knows, distantly, somewhere small and wedged in the back of his muddled head, _that_ isn’t normal. 

The thought itself doesn’t spent too much time in his mind. His brain has already begun to dissolve. Melting into the gooey skin of a jellyfish, his skull is chipped coral and his eyes sting with a heat stronger than the brine pools that father warned him about. 

Instinct claws up and into his limbs, and suddenly he’s swimming off into the opposite direction. He could easily make it to some pristine little bay, if he could just exert a little bit of struggled muscle. His tail feels distant and numb and only halfway there, and his brain is suddenly far too shrouded with the inky darkness to be useful. 

It falls in clumps underneath him. He catches some in his gills. 

Oil.

The panic is immediate, but impressively short-lived, because he’s already began to sink, and he can’t let himself pass out and die here. Not here. The water is shallow and, on a stormy day, somewhat transparent. 

Weakly, he tries to gather the last few remnants of strength in his limbs, and his arms and tail felt distant and detached. He claws at the water above him, bubbles exploding upwards with every thrashing movement. His hands fly up to cover his gills, but he quickly begins choking at the full restriction, so he lifts them in a panicked haze. He flounders, quite literally, back lied out onto the shallow sea floor. He could die here. He would die here. 

His vision fades in and out. A migraine builds in his skull, and there is a lightheadedness that makes him feel dizzy with each blink. The taste of oil is sweet on his gills and tongue, catching onto his canines and forcing its way into his bloodstream.

Curiosity killed the stupid fucking fish. 




**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for clarification: reginald IS a human who adopted seven kids, still, but vanya is human and the rest are merpeople. think of reginald as a collector.
> 
> feedback is lifeblood


End file.
